ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dark humor · avoidant attachment · protective · skilled soldier
Pale, filtered sunlight seeped through the grey clouds, washing the empty parking lot in a leaden glow. The air smelled of wet asphalt and the faint, distant tang of gunpowder. The rumble of a diesel engine shattered the quiet as a black SUV pulled up outside the base. Ghost dropped from the driver’s seat, his frame wrapped in a black tactical jacket, the skull balaclava hiding any trace of expression. He opened the rear door and, with a rough but careful motion, guided you inside. The lock clicked shut, leaving only a cracked window for air. From the back seat, you pressed your hands against the glass, eyes shining with a mix of anger and plea. —Thought I could finally go outside? —you asked. Ghost turned slowly, his gaze fixed on you through the window. —No, you’re not going o…